Chapter 5 Coronel

8/19/2019 Chapter 5 Coronel

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Chapter

5

Corruption

and

the

watchdog

role

of

the

news

media

Sheila

Coronel

The

notion

of

the

press

as

watchdog

is

more

than

200

years

old.

Yet

the

idea

of

vigilant

media monitoring government and exposing its excesses has gained new traction in many parts of

the world. Globalization, the fall of authoritarian and socialist regimes, and the deregulation of the

media worldwide have fuelled a renewed interest in ––as well as a surge in efforts by various groups

to support–– “watchdogging” by the media.

Since the late 17th

Century, classical liberal theorists had argued that publicity and openness

provide the best protection from the excesses of power. The idea of the press as Fourth Estate, as an

institution that exists primarily as a check on those in public office, was based on the premise that

powerful states

had

to

be

prevented

from

overstepping

their

bounds.

The

press

working

independently of government, even as its freedoms were guaranteed by the state, was supposed to

help ensure that this was so.

The 1980s and 1990s saw the revival of this centuries‐old notion and its application

especially to “transition societies” then emerging from the ruins of socialist and authoritarian

regimes. It had resonance among citizens facing pervasive corruption, weak rule of law, and

predatory or incompetent governments unable to deliver basic services. Today even in countries

where democracy is a fairly new experiment or even in those, like China, where democracy and a

free press

have

yet

to

take

root,

the

notion

of

the

press

as

watchdogs

of

power

is

embedded

in

the

self ‐definition of journalists1 and in varying degrees, also in public expectations of the media. It is,

moreover, a particularly seductive notion to the international donor community, which, since the

1990s, began to publicly acknowledge that corrupt and inept governments were a major

impediment to development efforts. As a result, donors who wanted to fund governance reforms

also became interested in supporting the media in their performance of their monitoring function.

But is the press acting as watchdog always desirable? In countries where the media are

hobbled by draconian state restrictions or driven largely by the imperatives of profit‐obsessed

markets, is such a role even possible? If so, what enabling conditions make a watchdog press

effective? Finally, what impact has media monitoring had in ensuring government accountability? Is

a watchdog press the key to governance reform, or is it civil society, responsive government

institutions, or an elite push for reform? Put differently, even if the press were an exemplary

watchdog––rather than a lapdog or attack dog of power––can it actually make a difference,

especially in societies that seem resistant to, or incapable of, change?


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The

many

faces

of

watchdog

reporting

In new and old democracies, the idea of the media as the public’s eyes and ears, and not

merely a passive recorder of events, is today widely accepted. Indeed, the myth of the intrepid

journalist doggedly pursuing the trail of wrongdoing remains very much alive, both in the media as

well as

popular

lore.

Governments,

it

is

argued,

cannot

be

held

accountable

if

citizens

are

ill

informed about the actions of officials and institutions. Watchdog reporting covers a wide range of

different types of journalism. On a routine basis, the watchdog press monitors the day‐to‐day

workings of government, thereby helping citizens assess the efficacy of its performance. Reporting

that goes beyond what officials or their spokespersons say, to examine government performance, is

also a form of watchdogging.

The genre, at least for the purposes of this chapter, covers a range of exposure journalism,

regardless of where it is published or aired, and regardless of the quality, target, and initiator of the

investigation. The targets of exposés range from low‐level to high‐level officials or celebrities. They

can be on small‐scale wrongdoing involving petty officials like traffic policemen or clerks, but can just

as well be on high‐level political corruption involving millions, even billions of dollars, as in the case

of Third‐World dictators and kleptocracies. The targets cut across various sectors: while many

exposés are about wrongdoing in government, they can also uncover malfeasance in the private

sector, such as corporations that cause damage to the public interest, as well as non‐profits who

take money from unsuspecting citizens. Watchdogging can involve oversight on both individuals and

institutions. Almost no public person or group is immune from investigation––indeed journalists

have investigated scamming Buddhist monks (Thailand), sexual abuse in the Catholic Church (US), as

well as wrongdoing in venerable institutions like the Boy Scouts (US).

Watchdog reporting covers an array of malfeasance: from sex and personal scandals to

financial wrongdoing, political corruption, enrichment in public office, and other types of

wrongdoing. They can also be classified according to who initiates the exposé: sometimes these are

the results of leaks from interested parties such as government investigators, rival businesses or

politicians, or opposition political parties; others are triggered by whistleblowers inside an

organization. Some are investigated first by advocacy groups and campaigners, before being taken

up by mainstream news organizations. The classic exposés, however, like the Watergate

investigation that resulted in the resignation of US President Richard Nixon, are the product both of

the initiative and enterprise of journalists as well as the cooperation of government investigators.

Watchdog reports are published or aired in a variety of media: from mainstream newspapers and TV

programs to scandal‐mongering tabloids, alternative magazines and newspapers, and muckraking

Web sites like the Drudge Report. Some exposés are well‐researched and crafted; others publish


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based on rumor rather than fact. Some watchdog reporters adhere to the strictest ethical standards;

others may accept money or favors in exchange for their exposés.

Investigative reporting, where journalists invest time and effort to ferret out and expose

wrongdoing, is perhaps watchdog journalism’s most celebrated form. Investigative journalists

report on

how

laws

and

regulations

are

violated.

They

compare

how

organizations

work

against

how

they are supposed to work. They expose how and why individuals and institutions fail. They report

when things go wrong, who is responsible, how the wrongdoing was done, and its consequences.

The best investigative work exposes not just individual, but also systemic, failures. They show how

individual wrongs are part of a larger pattern of negligence or abuse and the systems that make

these possible. They examine what went wrong and show who suffered from the mistakes. They

probe not just what is criminal or illegal, but also what may be legal and above‐board but

nonetheless causes harm.

Watchdog journalism is exposure journalism. The ethical standards of the journalist or the

quality of the reporting may be high or low. What distinguishes watchdogging is the exposure of

wrongdoing in the public interest. Whatever motivates the journalist or the news organization that

publishes a muckraking report is not the issue; what matters is that the reporting warns citizens

about those that are doing them harm and empowers them with the information they need to

know. Watchdogging can be both episodic––as in one‐off exposés that may or may not have impact–

–or sustained, especially where a community of journalists devotes its energies to exposing

malfeasance and produces a continuous stream of reports on wrongdoing.

Is

the

watchdog

desirable?

A watchdog press ensures that individuals and institutions who are supposed to serve the

public remain transparent and are held accountable. A vigilant press is therefore key to good

governance. That, at least, is the liberal democratic orthodoxy.2 This orthodoxy is not unchallenged,

however. To nonbelievers, the watchdog role should be subordinate to other, in their view more

constructive, goals. Leninist views of the press, for example, which prevailed in socialist regimes,

saw the press primarily as a collective propagandist and agitator, as a partner in building socialism,

rather than

an

entity

independent––and

skeptical

of––government.

3

A

related

view,

fashionable

in

the 1970s, was the school of development journalism, which preached that in poor countries, the

media should veer away from the Western fixation on conflict and disaster and should instead

promote developmental goals. From this perspective, the press blunts its critical edge and instead

functions mainly as information‐provider and cheerleader in support of the development agenda. 4

Similarly, as discussed in chapter 14, the “Asian values” conception of the media, which had its


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heyday during the 1990s, stressed the importance of collective, over individual, rights and welfare.

This view, premised on the uniqueness of Asian societies, cast aside Western notions of a watchdog

press as inappropriate for the region, where, it is asserted, citizens are willing to sacrifice individual

freedoms in exchange for economic well‐being. In the Asian values school, the media’s role is

primarily that

of

helping

forge

social

consensus

for

strong

governments

in

pursuit

of

economic

growth. 5

Even within the liberal tradition, however, there is skepticism about whether the watchdog

role of the press should take primacy. Some media scholars and critics argue that the adversarial

nature of reporting erodes trust and support for government. Studies on U.S. television reporting,

for example, say that TV news presents the image of government as inefficient and wasteful and

that this constant barrage of reporting on government wrongdoing may lead to the public being

desensitized to actual instances of misbehavior by public officials. 6 Western scholars belonging to

the “media

malaise”

school

of

media

effects

say

that

too

much

negative

reporting

undermines

support for public officials, making it more difficult for them to govern effectively. They suggest that

these practices also lead to rising dissatisfaction with governments and more broadly, with

democratic institutions and democracy itself. 7 Elsewhere, particularly in post‐conflict societies,

questions have been raised about whether adversarial media can endanger democratic

consolidation and spark chaos. 8

Another strain of criticism portrays media exposure of wrongdoing not as furthering their

watchdog role but as morphing into their less edifying role as purveyor of scandal. Media as

scandalmonger means that the end goal is to titillate and amuse citizens, rather than inform and

mobilize them for reform. The constant barrage of media exposés reinforces the “politics of

permanent scandal,” where there is unending controversy and frenzy on the political stage but not

much substantial reform. Instead, scandals––just like elections––become an arena for political

struggle among elites, rather than a venue for mobilizing the public to push for change. 9 The danger,

as a Hungarian scholar writing about the Balkans put it, is that “when everyone cries wolf, the public

loses all interest in accusations of corruption and normalizes it. The very high level of government

corruption becomes a normal fact of life.” 10

More radical critiques of the media, on the other hand, say the opposite: that the media, far

from being hypercritical, actually rarely perform their watchdog role or question the existing social

order. Thus, they wonder whether the media’s purpose and organizing principle ought to be based

on what they do NOT do most of the time.11 The watchdog doctrine, after all, dates back to an era

when the “media” consisted largely of small‐circulation and largely polemical newsletters and the

state was dominated by a landed aristocracy. The argument then was that private ownership


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protected the press against state intervention. But private ownership has not shielded the press

from market pressures, resulting in the downgrading of watchdog reporting in favor of fluff and

entertainment. In other words, while a press autonomous of government should in theory act as

watchdog, it cannot do so given the constraints of market‐based media. The liberal orthodoxy––

stuck in

romantic,

18th

‐century

notions

of

small

papers

fighting

autocracy––therefore

privileges

the

media’s watchdog role vis‐à‐vis the state while putting the press in the service of corporate power. 12

The

watchdog

and

government

For sure, the way the press operates in the real world rarely corresponds with normative

prescriptions of how the media ought to function. All over the world, the media are seldom immune

from the pressures of either––or, in many countries, both––the state and the market. In addition,

the structure and ownership of the media industry as well as professional practices, cultures, and

norms have a bearing on how well the press performs as watchdog. The relationship between the

media and those in power is also a factor. Moreover, certain historical moments seem to be more

conducive to watchdog reporting than others.

Without doubt, the institutional arrangements of democracy provide the most hospitable

environment for watchdog reporting. The constitutional and legal protections for a free press as well

as access to government‐held information give journalists not only the right, but also the tools with

which to monitor government. The checks and balances inherent in the representative system also

legitimize journalistic inquiry as part of a broader framework of government accountability to

citizens.

This is why watchdog reporting cannot take place in Burma or North Korea. This is also why

it has emerged in new democracies, even in places like the Balkans that have no history or tradition

of independent media. 13 The burst of investigative energies in the last 20 years was largely in places

where repressive regimes fell apart. After years of propaganda and thought control, citizens were

hungry for information, and their appetite for news and commentary was unleashed once the

restraints were relaxed. New democratic leaders not only dismantled information ministries and

state censorship but also liberated the media from state ownership, paving the way for

entrepreneurs who

took

advantage

of

the

commercial

opportunities

to

cater

to

a market

hungry

for

news. Freed from state controls, the media took on government and also made profits from their

exposés. Emboldened by their freedom, their prestige, and their profits, the media in many new

democracies now poke their noses into areas of public life from which they had once been barred,

exposing corruption and malfeasance in both high and low places, and in areas like the military,

which previously have not been subjected to press scrutiny.


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What is surprising is that investigative reporting has taken root in a nondemocracy like

China, a one‐party state where media freedoms are not guaranteed and journalists can count on few

protections. There, watchdog journalism was fuelled not so much by political, but by market,

liberalization. Economic reforms initiated in the late 1970s led to media reforms in the 1990s, which

included decreased

government

subsidies

for

the

media.

This,

in

turn,

forced

media

agencies

to

operate as commercial enterprises as they had to depend on advertising and circulation in order to

survive. Recognizing that muckraking can be profitable, journalists were encouraged to report more

aggressively. 14

Soon publications and public‐affairs programs specializing in investigative reporting

were set up, probing issues like corruption, crime, and the environment. Although the targets of the

investigations were low‐ and mid‐level officials, the new reporting represents a radical change from

the past. 15

Despite country differences, the forces that propelled investigative reporting in Latin

America, Southeast

Asia,

and

China

were

broadly

similar:

social

and

political

upheavals

that

created

a demand for information; journalists and media entrepreneurs who took advantage of the loosened

controls and the new business opportunities to expose wrongdoing; and a restless public that was

primed for muckraking reporting.16 In earlier eras, these same factors also spurred investigative

journalism elsewhere––in the United States in the early 1900s and again in the 1970s, and in the

United Kingdom in the 1960s and 70s. 17

In all these countries, a combustible mix of social ferment, competitive media markets, and

political liberalization fuelled investigative energies. But agency is important as well: a community of

journalists and entrepreneurs needed to seize the opportunities created by market and social forces.

The importance of journalistic agency cannot be underestimated. After all, in many developing

countries investigative reporters take great risks and are poorly or modestly paid. Most of the over

600 journalists killed worldwide since 2000 were investigating crime, politics, and corruption. More

than 70 percent of those killed were specifically targeted for murder, often by contract assassins.

And most of them were working for newspapers and broadcast stations in democratic countries. 18

Apart from physical attacks, investigative reporters have also been subjected to jail terms and

harassment lawsuits as well as laws that restrict information access, all of which impede their ability

to expose

wrongdoing.

The pathology is clear: even as democracy provides the optimum conditions for watchdog

reporting, many democracies in the world are unable to provide adequate protections for

journalists. And yet, neither murders nor lawsuits have succeeded in gagging the press. In

democracies like the Philippines, Mexico, and Colombia, where the journalist casualty rates are

among the highest in the world, the muckraking zeal does not seem to have been severely


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dampened. One exception is Russia, but other factors apart from killings, including the public mood

and the takeover of independent media by businesspeople close to the Kremlin, may explain why

Russian media have tended toward acquiescence in recent years. 19

The

watchdog

and

the

market

There is no argument that state controls are an impediment to watchdog journalism. There

is far less consensus about the role of the market. On one hand, market liberalization and

competition have encouraged the emergence of, and in many places, also sustained, investigative

reporting. But at the same time, market pressures are a major obstacle to its continued viability.

Democracies all over the world suffer from these contradictions. Most everywhere, the complaint is

the same: Because most of the media are organized as for‐profit enterprises, the performance of

democratic services is often secondary to profit‐making. Sometimes there is a fit: profit motives spur

concern for the public welfare. But often the goals collide. There is a design flaw: Critics say that

privately owned media, independent of the state but slave to the market, are at best, episodic and

unreliable watchdogs. 20

This view gained currency in the U.S. in the 1980s, with the emergence of big media

conglomerates and the takeover of family‐owned media enterprises by giant corporations. 21 The

dumbing down of the news and the dominance of entertainment values in the media have been

blamed on the rise of profit‐hungry media behemoths. Even so, many big news organizations

supported investigative reporting, partly because of the prestige it brought and partly because their

profits could sustain it. Today, as new media and new technologies threaten the business model that

has supported journalism for the last century, the resources for watchdogging are being slashed.

There is therefore renewed criticism of the shortcomings of profit‐oriented media and much more

critical thinking about alternatives, including nonprofit models for sustaining watchdog reporting. 22

Elsewhere, the evidence is mixed. In Europe, a study by the Dutch‐Flemish Association for

Investigative Journalists (VVOJ), showed that the leading outlets for investigative reporting are

national newspapers, public‐service broadcasters, and in some countries, weeklies and Sunday

papers. Local media and commercial broadcasters rarely invested in investigations, said the study,

which included

both

Eastern

and

Western

Europe,

Turkey,

Russia,

and

Ukraine.

Concerns

about

profitability do not seem to be the driving force. The history of the newspaper, newsroom culture,

and editorial leadership are more important determinants of whether a news organization would

invest in watchdog reporting. 23

While in the past tabloids competed for scoops on political

malfeasance, they were now shifting their rivalry to the coverage of celebrities, the VVOJ study said.

In the older democracies of Western Europe, therefore, the market does not now seem to be


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propelling or repressing investigative energies. Instead these energies are channeled to certain types

of media.

In contrast, in China, the market has proved to be a real boon to muckraking. It could be that

in countries where one party monopolizes political power and controls the media with a heavy hand,

profit‐oriented

media

provide

probably

the

only

check

on

power

and

a competitive

media

market

can spawn muckraking in various forms. In post‐authoritarian Latin America, mainstream

publications that were part of media conglomerates began investing in high‐quality investigative

reporting in the 1980s. With their economic power and political influence, they could risk exposing

wrongdoing in government without fear of financial or political repercussions. “Profits,” wrote Silvio

Waisbord, “laid the groundwork for watchdog journalism, spawning a politically confident press

uncompromised with government interests.” 24

In post‐dictatorship Southeast Asia, the emboldened media with an eye toward profit and

market share exposed corruption and malfeasance in public life in both the prestige and tabloid

press. Television, in particular, uncovered sleaze and corruption to attract viewers. Gotcha reporting,

such as exposés of state employees receiving bribes, often dramatized with the use of hidden

cameras, became part of the menu of prime‐time television news, together with showbiz gossip and

reports on the bizarre and the supernatural.25 Reporting on malfeasance can indeed give a media

organization competitive advantage, but it does not ensure that once the eyeballs tire of corruption,

the media’s gaze will not shift elsewhere. If watchdogging were primarily a marketing gimmick, then

it can be sustained only so long as the gimmick works. Financially viable muckraking presumes a

public that is interested in the exposure of wrongdoing.

Investigative reporting is expensive and time‐consuming. It requires an investment in staff

and resources. It is also risky. Sometimes, however, the political and prestige rewards can offset the

financial costs, as is the case in Latin America and Southern Europe where news organizations

conducted exposés in order to promote the pragmatic political or economic interests of various

groups or because of petty personal rivalries.26

In Russia, and to some extent in Latin America and

Asia, journalists are sometimes used to promote a political or financial agenda through the

publication of well‐timed leaks. In many instances, these journalists, many of them underpaid,

receive money from interested parties. The term kompromat in Russian refers to black PR or the

publication of dossiers prepared by the political or business rivals of the subject of the exposé. In

Latin America, this is called denuncismo. Whatever the name, this type of compromised investigative

reporting is driven neither by the market nor by journalistic initiative but by vested interests that

cripple the autonomy of journalists and news organizations.


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No doubt financial viability brings independence as well as the capacity to support

muckraking reporting. In theory, for‐profit, privately owned media can support production of

exposés because of their resources and their autonomy from government. That they do not always

do so is another issue. But the question that arises is what happens if privately owned media are not

profitable. In

some

countries,

state

subsidies

and

citizen

contributions,

as

in

the

case

of

public

‐

service broadcasters, or philanthropic support provide an alternative source of funding for watchdog

reporting.

Indeed, some of the most sophisticated and fearless watchdogging is being done by

independent, nonprofit entities devoted to investigative reporting. A recent study showed that some

40 such groups have emerged since the late 1980s in such diverse places as Romania, the

Philippines, Jordan, and South Africa. 27

These groups are largely funded by foundations or

international donors. They fill a gap in media systems where market, ownership, or political

pressures make

investigative

reporting

by

commercial

or

state

‐owned

media

difficult

if

not

impossible. These centers are involved in training and reporting and serve as models of excellence

that are helping raise the standards of local journalism.

Elsewhere, startup ventures by individual journalists are taking the lead in cutting‐edge

investigations. In Malaysia, the Web‐based news site Malaysiakini is filling the information gap in a

country where the media are in the hands of the ruling party and its business allies. The site is

funded partly by foundations and partly by subscribers. In India, Tehelka, a newspaper startup that

had its origins on the Web, is doing classic muckraking involving sting operations and undercover

cameras in a country where private media are immensely profitable and have a tradition of

independence from government.

There may be sound economic arguments for this. An economist using game theory posits

that older, bigger, and more established media companies will tend to undertake investigations only

when the expected gain from exposure is large enough to justify the expenditure. On the other

hand, new and emerging media entities that have little to lose are more likely to take the risk on

muckraking reporting that allows them to establish a foothold, particularly in nascent media

markets.28 Unsurprisingly, a study done in the 1990s by a Swedish editor concluded that in Europe,

newsrooms that were in bad shape financially tended to do more substantial investigative

reporting.29 One reason could be that they needed to compete with the market leaders. Throughout

Europe, many big and profitable news organizations did not do investigative reporting at all. In

contrast, many more small and financially strapped media had a tradition of exposure journalism.


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In sum, watchdog reporting has been done under a variety of conditions. The type of media

ownership, the size of the news organization, its financial viability, and profitability are not in

themselves sufficient factors in determining whether watchdog reporting can take root and be

sustained. Investigative reporting has been spawned in a variety of market conditions and has been

undertaken as

much

to

enhance

profits

as

to

further

political,

professional,

or

prestige

goals.

The

structures that best support watchdog journalism vary over time and across countries: These could

be competitive, non‐state media as in contemporary China; big and profitable private media

companies in Latin America; or noncompetitive, publicly funded broadcasters in Northern Europe.

Competition appears to be a factor, which means that newsrooms are more likely to invest

in exposés if these give them a competitive edge over their rivals. But competition alone is not a

predictor, as media companies can compete in other areas as well; exposés do not always guarantee

an audience. Moreover, the rise of nonprofits as well as citizen journalism Web sites engaged in

watch‐dogging

changes

the

equation,

if

only

because

they

do

not

factor

in

profits

and

competitive

edge in their calculations. The market is not unimportant. But it is not the rock on which the fate of

watchdog journalism rests.

The

watchdog

and

the

profession

It is interesting, but not surprising, that when journalists study themselves, they tend to

stress agency over structure. 30

Academic studies, in contrast, tend to do the opposite, analyzing the

structures that shape media development by creating the impediments as well as the opportunities

to which journalists and media organizations respond. Journalists do take structural conditions

seriously, but they also point to where interventions, either by individuals or news organizations, can

make a difference. The VVOJ study of investigative journalism in Europe, for example, lists

“preconditions” for watchdog reporting (press freedom, access to information, laws that facilitate

rather than impede the ability of journalists to conduct investigations). But it devoted more

substantial research on what conditions in newsrooms and what kinds of journalists tended toward

muckraking and what motivated them to do so.

Digging newsrooms, according to VVOJ, had more creative staff and allowed their reporters

more freedom.

In

addition,

they

had

stronger,

more

competent,

and

less

authoritarian

management. Journalists trained in investigative techniques also tended to practice these more. As

elsewhere, European investigative reporters had political, personal, and professional motives for

muckraking, VVOJ said. Political motives dominate in countries where the media have political

affiliations and so news organizations work on exposés to promote partisan political goals. Personal

motives take precedence where the media are no longer politically aligned but have not yet become


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professional. In this instance, investigations are conducted mainly by “lone wolves,” freelancers or

staff reporters in newsrooms that do not provide much support for exposés. These highly motivated

individuals driven by the watchdog ethos initiate and catalyze interest in investigative reporting in

their news organizations and in the media at large. Certainly, many of the nonprofit investigative

reporting centers

that

have

recently

flourished

in

new

democracies

are

driven

largely

by

individuals

of this kind. They are essentially lone wolves working at the margins of the mainstream, which is not

(yet) hospitable to watchdog reporting.

Professional motives take pre‐eminence when investigative reporting has been

institutionalized in newsrooms and the media as an industry have become professionalized (e.g.

journalists are academically trained, there are professional standards to which they must comply,

their news organizations take a neutral stance, etc.) The VVOJ study outlined a linear progression

from partisan to professional muckraking.

There has not been a lack of academic attention on how professional norms, practices, and

values affect how the media do their work. Most of the scholarly research looks at how these norms

evolved as a response to larger changes in media and society. For example, the norm of journalistic

objectivity is said to have emerged in the United States in the late 19th

century as a response to both

the elevation of science and the scientific method and the rise of newspapers that depended on

advertising and circulation for their sustenance. Unlike the party presses of an earlier era, these

newspapers attracted bigger audiences by promoting impartiality and factuality rather than

partisanship and polemic. 31

Professionalization in the media, some studies have argued, took place where the mass

circulation press was strong and the increasingly large‐scale and profitable media organizations that

evolved needed professional standards and practices––as all large organizations do––in order to

operate efficiently. 32

All these developments were themselves a consequence of capitalist

development, the rise of mass democracy, and an assertive middle class. 33

Like VVOJ, these scholars see a progression from partisan to professional media. Certainly,

this was the case in Latin America, where the ideological press monopolized watchdogging in the

1960s and

70s.

But

things

changed

in

the

1980s

and

90s,

when

big

mainstream

publications

that

were carriers of the ideology of professional journalism dominated the investigative scene.34

If this trajectory is the standard path of media development, then it could be argued that it

would be futile for developing countries still in the earlier phases of the development arc to aspire

for the kind of professional investigative reporting done in big newsrooms in North America and

Western Europe. They would need to wait for the structures to evolve to make this kind of


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journalism the norm. In the meantime, the flame of muckraking would be kept alive by journalists

and media organizations sustained by political or personal, rather than professional or institutional,

agendas.

But yet again, the Internet puts a damper on all these calculations. The first decade of this

century has

seen

the

rise

of

muckraking

blogs

and

Web

sites,

some

of

which

do

not

adhere

to

20th

‐

century standards of professional journalism, partly because they are not part of large organizations

that need to be governed by professional norms. Many of these new entities are not run by

professional journalists but by savvy individuals who report and write unencumbered by the

ideology of professionalism. Some of them in fact are critical of the standards and practices

associated with the mainstream media. In the U.S. and elsewhere a range of new‐media muckrakers

challenges traditional professional norms. They could be foreshadowing the next step in the

trajectory, a sort of post‐professionalization phase brought about by the different values and

norms––as well

as

the

different

news

imperatives––that

prevail

in

the

online

world.

In the developing world, where the media are not professionalized to the degree they are in

the West, the pre‐ and post‐professionalization phases coexist. For example, in China, where the

mainstream media remain under Party control, the blogosphere, despite sophisticated Internet

surveillance, has provided a home for watchdogging by citizens. There were 136 million Internet

users in China by the end of 2006 and tens of millions of blogs. While only a fraction of these deals

with public affairs, the political bloggers take seriously their role as watchdogs of power, even if

many of them remain Communist Party supporters.35

China is an illustrative case of how the self ‐definition of journalists (and indeed, of citizens)

can evolve over time. Hugo de Burgh conducted interviews with Chinese journalists and concluded

in a 2003 paper that “across the generations and regardless of the medium within which they work,

Chinese journalists do at present have a passion for that journalism which scrutinizes authority and

delves into the failings of society.”36

This was certainly not the case for a long time. De Burgh posited that this new ethos could

be a reflection of a change in the way the Chinese see themselves and their relationship with

authority. But

this

new

watchdog

role

is

complex,

not

quite

what

it

is

in

the

West,

where

investigative journalists expose not only derelictions of duty but also expand notions of duty beyond

what is legally defined or normally accepted by society. Chinese journalists, said de Burgh, “are both

upholders of the order and its critics, both limiting discourse to acceptable topics and extending

moral boundaries.”


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13

This shows that journalists are constantly redefining their roles in response to both

institutional and economic changes as well as the expectations of their audiences. Normative role

definitions are adjusted to the reality in which journalists find themselves. In China, social and

economic changes created an environment that required the media to be more responsive to their

audience. Striving

to

adjust

to

these

changes,

Chinese

journalists

found

inspiration

both

in

Western

notions of watchdog reporting as well as the example of Chinese activist‐ journalists writing in the

early part of the 20th

century. 37

They were also responding to a more aware and restless citizenry

angry about corruption and malfeasance. But at the same time, many of them were believers in the

ambitions of China as a resurgent global power and in the idea that the media’s role is as much to

establish public confidence in government as it is to expose betrayals of the public trust.

The journalist as watchdog, therefore, is a role that is defined differently across countries

and cultures. That definition is fluid, often contingent on the existing social, political, and economic

conditions and

a reflection

as

much

of

the

historical

moment

as

it

is

of

pre

‐existing

structures

and

media cultures. Journalists are inspired by liberal democratic notions of the press as watchdog but

they draw from the well of their own culture and history as well. They adjust their role definitions to

the demands of their audiences, their news organizations, and of the times in which they live.

Among journalists, watchdogging is not universally seen as a role that the press ought to

play. This is the case even in mature democracies. David Weaver’s study found that while the vast

majority of British and Finnish journalists believed in the watchdog function, only 30‐40 percent of

German and French reporters did.38

And certainly it is possible, as it was in China, that these

perceptions will change. De Burgh and others have argued that it could well be that the pre‐

eminence of the watchdogging ethos rises and ebbs over time, depending on the appetite of

consumers. Certainly in the United States, public interest in investigative reporting peaked in the

early 1900s and again in the 1970s; in the intervening period, watchdogging did not capture the

imagination of many journalists or the public. In the UK, the interest in exposure journalism peaked

in the 1960s and again in the 1980s. Such peaks usually occur during times of social ferment, when

there is widespread questioning of authority, social movements are strong, and there is great public

interest in the exposure of social and political ills.

In the end, a watchdog self ‐definition helps channel journalistic energies to investigations in

places where states and markets create enough of an opening for this kind of reporting. But it

certainly helps to have audience interest and public demand for exposés. While public interest in

watchdogging may be inconstant and fleeting, however, the institutionalization of government

monitoring and investigative reporting in journalistic practice may help ensure that the watchdog

function remains alive. Journalism schools play a role in instilling the watchdog ethos and teaching


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investigative skills to future generations of journalists. Press associations and other professional

organizations that do training in investigative skills also help. News organizations that adhere to high

standards of investigative reporting help build a tradition of watchdog journalism and provide a

model that others can emulate. All these efforts help sustain the notion––indeed, the myth––of

watchdog reporting,

even

if the

practice

itself

flags.

The

watchdog’s

impact

The proponents of watchdog journalism have high hopes for what it can do, especially in the

control of corruption. By exposing wrongdoing, they say, the press prompts investigations of those

involved in malfeasance and catalyzes changes in laws and regulations. It helps shape public opinion

against corrupt governments and generate public hostility against those who abuse their office.39

In the U.S., media scholars Protess et. al. found that investigative reporting can produce

three types of policy effects: The first type is described as “deliberative,” meaning the reports result

in official commitments to discuss the problems raised and the possible solutions; thus, studies may

be commissioned or government bodies may initiate hearings to deliberate reform initiatives.

“Individualistic” results take place when sanctions are applied against individual persons or

enterprises accused of wrongdoing. “Substantive” reforms happen when the investigations result in

tangible changes in rules, laws, procedures, or policies or new governmental units or bodies are

created or public funds are reallocated.40

All of these are not in the realm of possibility; they have happened. There are countless

examples from

all

over

the

world

of

how

watchdog

reporting

has

helped

cause

the

downfall

of

governments, reforms in law or policy, and the creation of new mechanisms of government

accountability. But it should also be said that many well‐documented investigations end up in

oblivion. They may make waves, win awards, generate controversy for a couple of weeks, but the

wrongdoings they expose are not acted upon. Certain institutions remain impervious to reform,

while others may initiate changes only to backslide into the practices of the past.

In his study of investigative reporting in Latin America, Waisbord said that factors unrelated

to the quality of journalistic work affect the impact of an exposé. These include the timing of the

report’s release,

the

prestige

of

the

news

organization,

and

the

production

values

of

the

investigation. 41

Scandals involving well‐known figures and sensational details get more public

attention as do investigations that appeal to the public’s voyeuristic appetites. But, as he showed in

the case of Argentina, while the “Gate” type of scandals generate buzz, especially in political circles,

they are largely met with public indifference. Where the public is accustomed to high‐level political

corruption, scandal fatigue can result. In contrast, scandals on issues that affect citizens directly––


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15

such as human‐rights abuses in Argentina in the late 1990s––are able to engage publics not usually

interested in politics. 42

In addition, the balance of political forces is an important factor.

Accountability, he said, hinges on the combined actions of a network of institutions such as the

judiciary, parliament, political parties.

The Southeast

Asian

experience

affirms

these

findings.

The

different

outcomes

of

journalistic investigations on official assets—one in the Philippines, and the other, in Thailand, both

in 2000—show that the impact of investigative reports is contingent upon the configuration of social

and political forces at a particular point in time and on the ability of interested publics to mobilize

against the wrongdoing that has been exposed. A great deal also depends on how the debates on

the revelations of wrongdoing are framed in the public discourse.

In the Philippines, a team of investigative reporters uncovered how then President Joseph

Estrada, a former movie star who publicly paraded his four mistresses, concealed the assets of his

multiple families. The reporters revealed that he was building grand houses and buying Jaguars for

his paramours, acquisitions that were not reflected either in his asset disclosures or his income tax

returns but which were purchased through front companies or nominees. The reporting implied that

the reason for the nondisclosures was that Estrada had been accumulating wealth from illegal

sources and could therefore not make a full disclosure without incriminating himself. 43

These reports, together with the public revelation by one of the president’s closest friends

that he was making millions from payoffs made by illegal gamblers, were so scandalous that they let

loose all the forces that had previously been held in check by the president’s popularity: opposition

political parties, the Catholic Church, citizens’ groups with a reformist agenda, and even the business

community, which from the beginning had serious doubts about the president’s capacity to govern.

Eventually, opposition congressmen initiated an impeachment charge against the president.

The investigative reports and the revelations of the gambling whistleblower provided the initial

evidence for the impeachment trial. When it seemed the trial was going to be compromised, with

the refusal of the majority of senators to accept incriminating evidence against Estrada, hundreds of

thousands of Filipinos massed up in the center of Manila in a “people power” uprising that ousted

the president

in

January

2001.

The debate on Estrada was framed in moral terms: his excesses were seen as transgressions

of the standards on how officials should behave. The Catholic Church, which played a key role in the

anti‐Estrada movement, ensured that the debate would be fought on moral grounds. The key actors

in the uprising were mainly middle‐class reformers, professionals, students, office workers, and key


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16

sections of the Manila business community, the same constituency that took part in the 1986 revolt

against Ferdinand Marcos.

At about the same time that Estrada was being subjected to a public scrutiny of his assets, a

similar investigation was happening in Thailand. A Bangkok‐based business biweekly revealed that

Thai Prime

Minister

Thaksin

Shinawatra

hid

$50

‐million

worth

of

shares

in

the

names

of,

among

others, his driver, housekeeper, security guard, and maid. Thaksin, a telecommunications and media

tycoon, was among the richest businessmen in Thailand. A former police general, he had a history of

using his political clout to build his business empire. The press exposé led to an investigation by the

National Counter‐Corruption Commission, which ruled that Thaksin had intentionally concealed his

assets as part of a “dishonest scheme.” The ruling was brought up to the Constitutional Court, which

acquitted the prime minister in a split vote. But unlike in the Estrada case, there was no uprising on

the streets of Bangkok as a result. Why the different outcomes for essentially similar cases brought

to the

public

attention

by

diligent

investigative

reporting

done

in

the

same

year?

The answer lies not so much in the failure of investigative reporting but in the success of a

media‐savvy prime minister in changing the parameters of the debate and in framing the discourse

in different terms. The press and civil society groups in Thailand looked at the Thaksin case as part of

a continuum of political reforms that had been undertaken in the country since it was hard‐hit by

the 1997 Asian crisis. To them, it was a simple matter of the rule of law: The prime minister lied in

his statement of assets; therefore, he should be punished. Thaksin, however, “invoked popularity

against the rule of law.” 44

He succeeded in convincing large segments of the public that what he

did—using nominees—was part of normal business practice. In the face of a critical press, he

brought his case directly to the public and courted popular opinion by instituting populist measures.

Riding on the phenomenal success of his telecommunications empire, Thaksin told Thais that he

alone could boost the economy and get rid of poverty.

The difference between the Philippine and Thai cases was not just in the way the debate was

framed, but also in the mood of politicized publics. Both Thaksin and Estrada were popular heads of

state with large electoral mandates. Both also represented a departure from the past: Thaksin was a

modernizing businessman, not a crusty bureaucrat; Estrada, a movie actor, not a greasy politician.

Both were elected to head countries with a free press, recent histories of popular mobilization, and

an influential and politically active middle class. In the Philippines, the political class made up of a

significant section of the elite, the Church, NGOs, and the middle‐class, were so scandalized by the

boozing, thieving, and womanizing Estrada that they wanted him out. On the other hand, in

Thailand, the business community, the politicians, and the public supported Thaksin and bought into


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17

his vision of the prime minister as CEO. They were willing to overlook his transgressions if he could

deliver—and to some extent, he did. 45

Certainly, one reason the Estrada investigation caught fire was that it had all the tabloid

ingredients—sex and scandal, mansions and mistresses. The issues concerning Thaksin were far

more complicated

and

far

less

sexy.

For

the

most

part,

the

most

successful

investigative

reports

have been those that focus on individual wrongdoing, on stories with clear villains, rather than on

more complex issues that have to do with social inequity, injustice, harmful public policy, or social

and political structures that lack accountability. Estrada’s excesses, for example, could be seen in the

light of the problems inherent in the Philippines’ presidential form of government, where the chief

executive holds extraordinary powers unchecked by existing oversight mechanisms. The media,

however, failed to frame the story in a larger context: It was primarily treated as the story of

individual excess, rather than one of systemic flaws.

Structures and systems are hard to explain. Journalists throughout the world are

accustomed to dealing with the current and the empirical; they are generally handicapped in

handling systemic, historical or structural questions. Even if they had this skill, however, such

content would find scant space in the commercially oriented media. Stories that have a human and

dramatic element sell better. It is also easier to correct wrongdoing committed by an individual

rather than one that involves systemic or structural change. Investigative journalists, therefore, try

to humanize and dramatize their findings by portraying individual characters and using literary and

dramatic devices to highlight the wrongdoing that they expose. 46

They also try to frame their stories

in a way that makes them easily understandable to, and appreciated by, the public.

For sure, the framing can be wrong, at least partially. The classic of the genre, the reporting

on Watergate, has been widely regarded since the 1970s as the touchstone and archetype for

investigative reporting worldwide. The Watergate investigation, more than any other in

contemporary times, showed the power of the press in a democracy. But more recent critics say that

Watergate’s verdict, as framed by the liberal press— that “Nixon was uniquely disgraceful, his direct

abuses of power and violation of the law, unprecedented”—was wrong. 47

Other presidents were

guilty of equal, or even greater, betrayals of the public trust. Watergate is instructive in other

respects. To begin with, the press did not uncover Watergate on its own: government investigators

and Congress all played a role. 48 Others go so far as to say that Watergate was driven not so much

by the media or public opinion but by political insiders. The political elite drove the reporting and

this resulted in Watergate being defined as a legal issue, rather than a systemic one.49 Certainly

many media investigations in the developing world are Watergate‐like in their inception and

framing.


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Unsurprisingly, Protess and others were skeptical of the “mobilization model,” which says

that exposés, by changing public opinion and mobilizing publics, ultimately lead to policy reforms.

There may be a link between press exposure and policy changes, they say, “but the link is weak and

unreliable.” 50

The media may change public attitudes but they don’t necessarily mobilize the public

to participate

in

political

life.

The

press

may

be

more

influential

in

molding

the

attitude

and

behavior

of political elites, who are much more sensitive to how the media report on them. Protess et. al.

examined six investigative reports and found that policy changes that result from exposés are

sometimes triggered not so much by public outrage but by prepublication transactions between

journalists and officials. The relationship between muckraking reporters and policy makers was not

always adversarial, but may be cooperative, when press and policy agendas overlap.

All these considerations, however, do not negate the fact that ultimately, whatever the

constellation of factors that led them there, exposés of wrongdoing in public office can help make

personnel and

policy

changes

possible

if the

environment

is

ripe

for

reform.

They

can

sometimes

also mobilize the public, but they are often more successful in getting officials to act. While

watchdog reporting may push the wheels of change and reform, however, the media have little

control of the direction these take and the obstacles they face. The impact of watchdog journalism is

often diminished by the inertia of governments, the unwillingness of elites to take action, the weight

of bureaucratic cultures that are resistant to change, a law‐enforcement system that is incapable of

punishing wrongdoing, and an apathetic and cynical public.

Despite these, Aymo Brunetti and Beatrice Weder argued that watchdog reporting is

“potentially a highly effective mechanism of external control” against two particularly pernicious

types of corruption. 51

The first type is extortive corruption where a government official has the

power to delay or refuse service in order to get a bribe. The authors posited that the press can

provide a vehicle for voicing complaints about such extortions. Victims, they said, have a strong

incentive to expose this type of corruption to journalists. Press reports, in turn, increase the risks of

exposure of corrupt bureaucrats, and over time, act as a deterrent to official extortions. The press,

however, is even more effective against collusive corruption, the authors argued. When there is

collusion, both bureaucrats and their clients have no incentive to expose malfeasance, as in the case

of extortive

corruption.

In

a free

‐press

system,

however,

journalists

are

motivated

by

competition

and a professional ethos to expose wrongdoing, thus unraveling collusive arrangements and making

them public.

In the long term, its proponents argue, watchdog reporting help sets off a virtuous cycle of

media and governance reforms. Carefully researched, high‐impact investigative reports help build

the media’s credibility and support among the public. The press as an institution is strengthened if


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journalists have demonstrated that they serve the public interest by uncovering malfeasance and

abuse. Not only that, a credible press is assured of popular backing if it is muzzled or otherwise

constrained. Investigative reporting is also seen as contributing to journalistic freedom. By

constantly digging for information, by forcing government and the private sector to release

documents, and

by

subjecting

officials

and

other

powerful

individuals

to

rigorous

questioning,

investigative journalists expand the boundaries of what is possible to print or air. At the same time,

they accustom officials to an inquisitive press. In the long term, the constant give and take between

journalists and officials helps develop a culture––and a tradition—of disclosure. 52

In the end, even if

in the short‐term, exposés make little impact, they educate citizens and provide information, a

process that over time enriches democratic discourse.

Such role is particularly important during democratic transitions, when the media are still

asserting their autonomy from government and helping construct the new rules of engagement with

officials. While

some

critics

say

that

aggressive

reporting

on

government

wrongdoing

may

translate

into the withdrawal of support for democracy, more recent studies of “third‐wave” democracies

indicate that this may not be so. Citizens may in fact see critical reporting as an indication that the

checks and balances of democracy are at work. In their study of the media in new democracies in

Europe, Schmitt‐Beck and Voltmer found that despite the rise of adversarial and sensational news

reporting in post‐authoritarian media, on the whole, media exposure is conducive to democratic

consolidation and helps build support for democracy. 53

The

watchdog’s

dark

side

There are, however, contrarian views. Some view media exposés not as part of a virtuous

cycle of media and political reforms but as a component of the “politics of permanent scandal” that

characterize modern democracies. 54

In this view, a competitive media, coupled with democratic

institutions and structures to scrutinize wrongdoing, create a hothouse environment for scandal

politics. This type of politics becomes a permanent feature of democracies and does not necessarily

result in either cleaner governments or more responsible media. Instead, scandals lead to cynicism

rather than a renewed commitment to democratic values and institutions. These practices are

therefore dysfunctional. They also draw public attention away from other, perhaps more crucial

issues that require action. In many developing and transition societies, accusations of corruption––

played out in the media––are part of the arsenal of political contestation. The charges of

malfeasance, sometimes made by media organizations friendly with the accusers, have become

regular media fare. Even when the charges are true, wrote Andras Sajo, these may “distort

democratic politics as the political competition centers upon the opponents’ (un)cleanness” to the

detriment of other issues that the public needs to address. 55

Transition societies, he added, are


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20

particularly prone toward such distortion because many actors both nationally and internationally

are interested in (and fund) the exposure of corruption in these countries: “Exposure has become

professionalized.” To others, however, scandal and exposure can play a functional role. One

argument is that scandals are “rituals of collective absolution which reaffirm the social order.”56

Through scandal,

the

public

becomes

part

of

a morality

play

and

public

life

is

cleansed

in

the

process. Another perspective knocks down the doomsayers despairing about the adversarial

projection of politics. From this point of view, the media, despite the dominance of scandal and

exposure, generate useful political information whose quality and quantity exceed that which was

available to citizens of an earlier age. They keep citizens informed, although what citizens can and

should do with such information is another question. But, as Brian McNair asked: “Is there, from the

point of view of the efficiency and integrity of the democratic process, an optimal upper limit, as

well as lower, on the quantity of information flowing in a society, and the amount of critical scrutiny

exercised

by

the

media

over

elites

and

their

rhetoric?”

57

Perhaps the most attractive perspective settles for the middle ground: Scandal and exposure

are contested spheres. Their outcomes therefore are uncertain. The media and politicians can profit

from scandal as much as lose from them. They may lead to the renewal of a political system as much

as to disaffection with it. Citizens may find them mere distractions, but they can equally become

outraged and engaged.58

The media’s performance of its watchdog function can be seen in the same

way. As shown in the examples above, the outcomes of press exposés are seldom certain. They can

even end up with the press being at the losing end, if its motives and methods are challenged. No

doubt, press

exposure

of

corruption

has

the

potential

to

catalyze

governance

reforms

and

to

remedy

some of the deficiencies that hobble the media, but it does not always succeed in doing so. At the

very least, therefore, watchdog reporting offers a tool, a window for raising the level of discourse,

for engaging the public, and reconstructing a public sphere much diminished by the onslaught of the

market and the strictures of the state. It also keeps alive the most beloved of journalistic myths: that

of the press as the guardian of the public interest. 59 And that, in the end, may be the most enduring

impact of watchdog journalism: it sustains the belief among both journalists and citizens that

exposure and vigilance can check the abuses of power. It keeps the faith.

In sum,

it

should

be

said

that

at

its

very

best,

the

watchdog

press

can

make

real

policy

and

personnel changes possible. It can raise the awareness of citizens about wrongdoing and abuse so

that they demand such changes. It pushes important issues into the public sphere that would

otherwise be ignored. It keeps democracy alive by forcing institutions and individuals to be

accountable for what they do. The threat of media exposure helps keep both private and public

institutions honest. A free and independent press is perhaps the most important accountability


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21

instrument in democracies. If it does its job well, it becomes the primary guardian of the public

interest. And in the end, by exposing wrongdoing and catalyzing reforms, it renews faith in

democracy and the democratic process. Citizens feel empowered if their outrage over media

exposés is reflected in public‐policy changes. This sense of popular empowerment, in turn, leads to a

more participatory

and

responsive

democracy

as

well

as

more

effective

governance.

Policy

recommendations

By playing its watchdog role, the media help bring about reforms and in the long term, assist

in creating a culture of civic discourse, transparency, and government accountability. While there

are genuine limits to the media’s effectiveness and power, the media’s capacity to promote good

governance is enhanced if the rights of the press are guaranteed, information is made available to

the media and the public, journalists are protected, and news organizations enjoy editorial

independence and abide by high ethical and professional standards. In addition, the press is most

effective and less prone to capture by vested interests if there is a plurality of media entities

representing diverse views and ownership patters operating in a competitive market as well as

broad public access to the media. Some specific policy interventions could include:

Providing a legal and regulatory environment that allows the media to be an effective

watchdog: This entails safeguarding press independence and freedom as well as ensuring pluralism

in media ownership and points of view. Such pluralism ensures that the media’s ability to act as

watchdog is not constrained by the interests or points of view of media proprietors. It also means

the establishment of mechanisms that make the media, like government, transparent and

accountable. The watchdog, after all, cannot be effective if it is not credible and accountable for

what it does. Specific reforms can involve:

Enactment of firm constitutional guarantees of a free press and freedom of information;

Enactment and implementation of liberal freedom of information laws;

Strengthening the courts, the police, and the justice system, and generally, the rule of

law, to provide adequate protection for journalists;

Enabling regulations

that

would

lower

the

barriers

to

media

ownership

and

reduce

concentration of media ownership;

Establishing independent press councils, mediawatch groups, Ombudsmen, and other

media self ‐regulatory bodies autonomous from the government;

Removing restrictions that prevent the media from playing its watchdog role, such as

the use of state advertising to control media content, onerous licensing requirements,


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laws that unduly penalize the revelation of “state secrets” and compel journalists to

reveal their sources and laws that criminalize libel and defamation;

Promoting genuine public service media that will provide in‐depth and informative

reporting accessible to as many citizens as possible; while public service media may be

subsidized by

state

funds,

they

should

be

run

independently

of

government;

and

Donor funding for nonprofit investigative reporting efforts as well as support for the

long‐term financial viability of investigative news organizations.

Raising professional and ethical standards: This means improving the level of skills in various

areas of journalism, not to mention improving working conditions and raising compensation to

respectable levels. These help raise the social status of watchdog journalists and also make them

less prone to corruption. It is important to build a community of journalists bound by a watchdog

ethos

and

committed

Documents

Chapter 5 Coronel